Zinke's Reading Room

Title: A Killer Hypothesis (2/4)
Author: Zinke
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Ensemble cast. Extremely mild undertones of Castle/Beckett UST.
Spoilers: None, though this piece is set to take place somewhere in the zone of seasons 2 or 3.
Disclaimer: Castle and its characters are sadly not of my own creation. Anything and everyone else in this story belongs to me.

Author’s Notes: Several months ago, reema_patel won safeword_apples’s Mini-Hiatus Pop Quiz contest, the spoils of which was a 500 word fic from me based on a prompt of her choosing. The prompt she gave me was: pillow fight, which it turns out was a pretty awesome prompt because my little 500 word vignette has since turned into a full-on case file. Oops? In any case, I thank her for her patience; this story has been far too long in coming.

Research information cited in this story is taken from the National Alzheimer’s Association Research Center and Science Daily.

Thanks goes as always to my own personal adverb protection officer gabolange and to girlunravelled who helped nurse me through the daunting plot-writing process.

Previous installments can be found here: Part One


* * * *

Crossing her arms, Beckett leans back in the interrogation room chair and sizes up her less-than-cooperative suspect. On the far side of the table, Daniel McCall is doing his best to look nonchalant – and failing miserably.

She watches him pick at a crack in the table’s veneer, letting him sweat for a few seconds longer. “Daniel.” When he doesn’t respond, Kate reaches across the tabletop to still his hand. “Danny. I need you to tell me what happened.”

“Nothing happened, I told you.”

“Something did happen. A woman was murdered – a woman you knew.” Castle says. “And you were there.”

“No!” Danny licks his lips. “I wasn’t. I swear.”

“Yes, you were.” Beckett pushes a still taken from the security video across the tabletop. “You just didn’t want anyone to know.”

Castle pins McCall with a steely gaze. “Why is that, exactly?”

“It’s not—I didn’t—” The young man visibly deflates. “I’m on a scholarship,” he says, his gaze flicking between Castle and Beckett. “I lose that, I spend the rest of my life pumping gas at the local Lukoil.”

“You do understand you’re under suspicion for murder?” Castle asks. “In the grand scheme of things, losing a scholarship should be the absolute least of your worries.”

“I didn’t kill Claudia!”

Beckett jabs a finger at the timestamp in the corner of the photograph. “Then tell me why we have security camera footage that clearly shows you sneaking into the Gamma house through Claudia’s open window less than an hour before she was found dead in her room?”

“I wanted to see my girlfriend,” McCall blurts, his face flushing at the admission.

“Your girlfriend?” Beckett prompts.

“Pixley Jones.”

“Seriously?” Castle asks, his tone a mixture of disbelief and unabashed amusement.

Beckett sends a warning glance in Castle’s direction. “If you were there to see Pixley, then why did you climb in though Claudia’s window?”

“Because it was open,” McCall replies. “As soon as I was inside I called Pixley and told her to meet me in her room. She and I were…kind of busy after that.”

Beckett and Castle exchange a glance as McCall continues, “As soon as I heard Mandy scream I high-tailed it out of there before someone could see me.”

“And how exactly did you accomplish that?”

“I used the emergency exit,” he replies as if it were obvious. “No one ever goes in or out that way.”

“And you didn’t set off an alarm when you opened the door?”

Danny shrugs. “Must’ve been broken.”

“Or intentionally disabled.” Castle shifts closer to Beckett and murmurs, “You know, if Danny Boy here is telling the truth that door could be how our killer got inside.”

Beckett considers the idea a moment before returning her attention to their suspect. “Did you see anyone else when you left the Gamma house?”

McCall shakes his head. “All I wanted to do was get my ass back to the library before Coach found out I was gone. He’d bench me if he heard I was…you know instead of studying for my stats exam.”

“Okay. So let’s say for the sake of argument that you didn’t kill Claudia. Did she say anything to you in the days leading up to her murder? Act differently or do anything out of the ordinary?”

“She did cancel a few of our tutoring sessions last week because she was working late in the biology lab.”

“Do you know what she was working on?”

Danny shakes his head. “Whatever it was, it must’ve been big.”

“Why do you say that?”

“She had that look in her eyes, you know?”

Castle and Beckett shake their heads.

"Listen; football is my life; science was Claudia’s. And the way she’d been acting the past couple weeks? You’d have thought the championship title was on the line and she’d just fumbled the ball.”

* * * *

Castle is sitting in his customary spot by her desk, slouched in his chair and tossing a wadded up ball of paper into the air when Beckett gets back from holding. “McCall’s story checks out,” she says as he sends it spinning into the air.

The paper drops to the ground, forgotten. “Raging hormones as an alibi? Really?”

“Really. Phones records confirm the call to his girlfriend a few minutes after the video shows him climbing through Claudia’s window. And Pixley—” Beckett narrows her eyes as Castle snickers, “corroborated his story that they were together in her room at the time of the murder.”

“If he didn’t do it, and all of the other Gammas alibied one another out—”

“Then we need to look outside the sorority house for our suspect.” Beckett sighs and sinks into her chair. “Hey Ryan? Do we have anything from CSU yet?”

“Uhh…” Ryan rifles through the stack of files on his desk until he finds the one he’s looking for. “Yeah; report came up while you were in interrogation. The only fingerprints they found on the fire exit door were McCall’s.”

Caste’s brow furrows. “That’s weird.”

“How so?” Beckett asks.

“Manhattan University has over five-thousand students,” he explains. “There are probably just as many reasons why someone might’ve touched or tried to use that door since the last time anyone on the maintenance staff bothered to clean it.”

Beckett nods in understanding. “Which means it was wiped clean shortly before Danny used it.”

“That would explain the two sets of footprints CSU found in the mud just outside the door,” Ryan adds.

“So somebody else was there,” Castle says triumphantly as Beckett takes the CSU from Ryan and quickly scans its contents.

Beckett frowns and passes Castle the file. “Someone was there, yes. But we have no way of proving it was our killer. For all we know it was just another horny boyfriend who had the same bright idea as Danny.”

“And had the foresight to cover his tracks on the way out the door?” Castle snorts. “You clearly don’t know much about horny teenage boys.”

“What can I say, Castle?” She leans closer to breathe in his ear, “I happen to like my men a little more experienced.”

Smirking, she watches Castle splutter for a moment before turning to Ryan, her expression all business once again. “McCall said that Claudia had suddenly been spending a lot of time in the biology lab.”

“You think that might have something to do with why she was killed?”

“I think that, at the moment, it’s the only lead we’ve got.” Standing, Beckett reaches for the jacket hung across the back of her chair. “Looks like you’re getting your wish Castle; time to go back to school.”

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” he grouses, following her to the elevator.

* * * *

“Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Professor.”

Dr. Jeremy Tripp coughs and pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and gives Beckett a weak smile. “Under the circumstances, it’s the very least I could do. Claudia was one of my most gifted students.”

Leading them into his office, Tripp dabs at his lips with the cloth before taking a long sip of water from the mug on his desk. “Please excuse me; I’m getting over a rather nasty cold.”

“It’s that time of year,” Beckett reassures as she looks around at the controlled chaos of Tripp’s office. Every available surface is covered in stacks of books, journals, and loose papers, the bookshelves lining the far wall filled to bursting with more of the same. A line of stained coffee mugs stand sentinel along the window ledge beside a wilted, yellowing bamboo plant that has undoubtedly seen better days.

Noticing her inspection, Tripp hurries to remove twin towers of paper from the pair of visitor’s chairs by his desk. “Please, sit.”

Beckett waits until the three of them are settled before asking, “Professor, I understand Claudia Santos has been assisting you in your research?”

Tripp tugs at the hem of his sweater vest and skims a hand over the length of his tie as he takes a seat. “Yes. For the last two years.”

“Her friends mentioned that she’d been spending a lot of extra time here over the past few weeks.”

“That’s right. We’d come to a critical point in my research, and I needed all hands on deck. Claudia was more than willing to put in the extra time.”

“And what exactly is it that you and your team have been working on?”

“The development of an antibody that can block beta-secretase and gamma-secretase enzymes, thereby preventing the fragmentation of Amyloid Beta from the amyloid precursor protein.”

Off Castle’s blank look, Beckett explains, “They’re trying to find a treatment for Alzheimer’s disease.”

“Not treatment.” Tripp corrects, looking impressed. “A cure. By introducing an agent that interferes with the cleaving process, we can not only inhibit the development of the plaques that cause Alzheimer’s disease, but also repair existing damage to the neurons themselves.”

Castle’s eyes widen. “That’s impressive.”

“It would change the face of aging as we currently know it,” Tripp agrees with a nod.

“And Claudia wanted to be a part of that?” Beckett asks, pulling the focus of the interview back to the more immediate issue.

“She came to me personally and asked to be on the project. Her grandmother had been diagnosed a month or so earlier, and Claudia felt very strongly about becoming a part of the effort to combat the disease. I don’t usually take on undergraduate assistants but…” Tripp shrugs. “Claudia was different.”

“How so?”

Tripp releases a raspy sigh and leans back in his chair. “She was bright, dedicated. Claudia had the mind of a true scientist. Her insights are no small part of the reason we’ve made so much progress over the past two years.”

Castle leans forward. “How much progress is that, exactly?”

“Enough to be laying the groundwork to begin animal trials early next year. For the first time in my professional life, I can honestly say that I believe I will live to see the aspirations of my life’s work – a cure for one of the most insidious diseases on the planet – become a reality.”

“That’s some pretty heady stuff for a research scientist.”

“’Heady’ doesn’t even begin to describe it, Mr. Castle.”

Beckett leans forward in her chair and makes a point of meeting the other man’s eyes. “I’m afraid we’re going to need to have a look at your lab.”

Tripp’s expression grows pale. “You can’t possibly think that my work had something to do with Claudia’s death?”

“We’re not sure,” Beckett gives the man a reassuring smile. “But I’m sure you can understand when I tell you that we need to explore every possibility before drawing our conclusions.”

“Of course.” Tripp rises to his feet. “This way.”

* * * *

It’s a short walk to the lab, a brightly lit expanse of white and chrome that stands as a stark contrast the earlier clutter of Tripp’s office. A cluster of workstations is situated at the center of the room, each one equipped with its own computer. Seated at one of the cubicles is a scruffy-faced man dressed in jeans and polo shirt. He looks up as Tripp swipes his keycard and opens the door, frowning slightly as he takes in the presence of the visitors.

“Professor?” The younger man switches off his computer and rises to his feet. “How are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you. Simon, this is Detective Beckett and Mr. Castle. They’re investigating what happened to Claudia last night. Detective, this is Simon Moss, my post-graduate research assistant.”

“I heard the news this morning,” Simon says, once handshakes have been exchanged. “It’s hard to believe.”

“Were you and Claudia close?” Beckett asks, casting a sideways glance at her partner as he leans in for a closer inspection of one of the empty workstations, remarkable only because of the lion’s mane of Post-It Notes ringing the edge of its computer monitor.

“I supervised her here in the lab for over two years.” Simon’s eyes dart nervously between Beckett and Castle. “That’s a lot of hours spent hunched together over a microscope.”

“And outside the lab?”

“Frat parties and sorority mixers aren’t really my scene.” Simon frowns and points a finger at Castle. “What is he doing?”

“Is this Claudia’s computer?” Castle asks before Beckett can respond to the question.

Tripp nods. “Claudia had her own, unique way of working out a problem. She’d move those notes around the edge of the screen like puzzle pieces until something—” The professor stops short, giving Castle a strange look as the writer raises his phone and snaps a picture of the display, “—clicked.”

“Hey – is he allowed to do that?” Simon protests.

Beckett ignores the question. “We’re going to need to have a look at whatever is on Claudia’s computer.”

“But those files are confidential,” Simon protests.

“And they will stay that way,” Beckett assures. “But this is a murder investigation; my people are going to need access to all of Claudia’s files.”

“I think what Simon is trying to say,” Tripp interjects, “is that, pocket protector stereotypes aside, the scientific community can be rather cutthroat, and if someone outside my group were to gain access to my research…”

“I understand.” Beckett flashes them both a reassuring smile. “And I assure you we will take every precaution to ensure that doesn’t happen.”

“What precautions, exactly? Because—”

“Simon, please.” Tripp places a steadying hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “If it will help you find Claudia’s killer, naturally we will give you whatever access you need, Detective Beckett. But I must insist that your people do whatever is required here, on site, behind the University’s firewalls.”

“Of course,” Beckett says, her expression cool. “Just one last question before we let you both get back to your work: where were you last night between eleven and one?”

“At home,” Tripp responds. “I haven’t been feeling well and made a point of going to bed early.”

“And I was here, catching up on some data entry.”

“Alone?”

Simon nods.

“Thank you gentlemen,” Beckett says, straightening slightly as she gives them both a smile. “You’ve been very helpful.”

* * * *

“I know that look,” Castle comments as they make their way outside and across the quad.

“What look?”

“The pursed lips, the furrowed brow, the death grip you’ve got on your cell phone.” He waits for her to self-consciously slip the device into her pocket before finishing, “You’ve got a hunch.”

Beckett gives him a sidelong glance. “Haven’t we had this conversation before?”

“I’m just saying: you’ve got a theory. And I think it’s time you shared with the class.”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” Beckett counters as she stops and turns to him with a smirk.

“I don’t have one – yet.” Pulling his phone from his pocket, Castle brings up the picture of Claudia’s computer monitor he’d taken earlier. “But I’ll bet you a burger at Remy’s that the answer is here. Somewhere.”

“In a bunch of Post-It Notes?”

He gives her a sour look.

“All right, Castle. I’ll tell you what; as soon as you figure it out, call me.”

“I—what?”

“I’m assigning you to this particular line of investigation.”

“You can do that?”

“I just did.”

Castle regards her with a mixture of surprise and anticipation. “Okay.” And with that he wanders off, his attention fixed on the picture on his phone’s screen.

“Hey!” she calls after him. “Aren’t you going to ask me about my hunch?”

“You think Simon did it,” Castle replies off-handedly.

“How did you—”

He looks up from his phone with a smug grin.

“Never mind.”

He waits for her to catch up with him before resuming walking. “If it helps, I don’t know why you suspect our graduate student of being a killer.”

“Because he’s hiding something.”

“’Something’ could be a lot of different things.”

“Well, for one, he wasn’t at the lab last night.”

“How—”

“The look on Tripp’s face when Simon gave us his alibi. The professor knew he was lying.”

“That means Tripp must have lied about where he was last night, too.”

Beckett nods. “And that makes him just as much of a suspect as Simon.”



*end part two*

*to part three*